


Just Might Find 17

by helens78, Telesilla



Series: Just Might Find [21]
Category: Equilibrium (2002) RPF
Genre: BDSM, Dom/sub, Kink, M/M, Pet Play, The Establishment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-18
Updated: 2006-01-18
Packaged: 2017-10-05 18:27:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telesilla/pseuds/Telesilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few private thoughts from Sean, and a pet play scene that involves some punishment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Might Find 17

_private entry: Sean_

I suppose a man ought to realize when he's naming the tattoo he got for his ex, there's maybe something about that piece of ink that isn't quite sitting well with him. I'm lucky in that it doesn't really show, and I can't see it very well, but every so often if I'm turning my head to look at whatever marks Bill's left on me, I glimpse it, and I wish I didn't have to.

Actors have "work done" all the time. It's just usually facelifts and eye tucks and all that other shite that mostly women are forced to do, some men, but if men age like Clint Eastwood we can get away with just being old. I don't know how many of us have gone for tattoo removal -- most people who ink themselves for a person tend to keep the ink and live with it.

I can't. I wish I could. But I don't want that particular memory on my skin anymore. It was spur-of-the-moment, not something I took any time in deciding to do. It's not me. Not something I'd have ever done if not for Viggo. And the ink was barely healed before the marriage was over. It's something I feel foolish about every time I think of it and something I wouldn't do again if I had it to do over.

No rush in having it removed. When it's the right time and I've got the opportunity, I'll have it taken care of. It may scar a bit, but I'm willing to take the chance on it.

And talking of scars... master talked about wanting to beat me hard enough to draw blood and worrying about leaving marks. I do have marks from beatings, a few of them, and marks from scenes here and there. Nothing deliberate. And I don't mind those. I've got several faint ones from Pierce that you wouldn't see unless you looked for them. Never minded that either. Marks from scenes are reminders of the scenes, not reminders of the people, more often than not. I don't mind that at all, and I've got no doubt that master would be memorable with or without his scenes etched into my skin -- but I wouldn't mind carrying them around after we're done.

It does help that I'm "rugged" more than "pretty". And that I'm approaching 50 at an alarming rate. No one expects the classic "bit of rough" to have made it to 50 without scars, and nobody's really looking closely enough to know that a faint dark patch on one shoulder wasn't there in 1992 but was in 1997. Or that there's a thin line on my forearm that wasn't there four years back. Future marks I can handle, within reason -- can't have my back come out of it looking like Sharpe's -- but then again, it'd save on makeup time. Ha.

Maybe I just like the idea of someone wanting me enough to push me that far. Maybe I just like knowing I'd have his complete, undivided attention. I like not having to compete for his interest. I like not having to worry that I'm asking for too much from him.

I never do worry about that. You'd think it would be a paralyzing feeling, but really it's just something I'm so grateful for that I don't quite know what to make of it. I hope I still feel like this in another month, another two months. I hope it lasts while the contract does.

_private entry: Sean_

If I felt like being an idiot, I could probably fall in love with him. He's kind enough. Smart enough. Attractive enough. He pushes all the right buttons, hits all the right kinks. He makes me feel safe in ways no one else ever has before.

I love the way his collar feels on my throat. I love sharing what amounts to a quite nice life with him. I want more than three months; I can already tell that much. August's going to come and I'll want more.

I'd have to be an idiot to want to arse that up with other things. He wants a boy he can hurt and fuck, care for and protect, a companion, an friend. I want all of that, too, and when I wonder if I want more, if ther'es going to come a time when this isn't enough for me...

That's just it, though. It's never not going to be enough. This is _good_, what we have here. People build lives together on less than this.

But I know me. Why give just what's in the contract if you can go an extra step? Why be friendly with the domme if you can fall for her? Why stay in London when you can change your entire life for the lover who used to be your best friend? Why settle for a rebound when you can have a new husband while the ink's drying on the last divorce?

Nothing's ever _enough_. No such thing. If I know anything at all about me, I know that.

Except. Except this _is_. He's not asking for more. He saw what I had to offer and said he wanted it just as it was. No corrections. No improvements. As broken and fucked up as I was when we met again, he wanted me.

And I don't feel an urge to push this along the way. I don't ever want it to turn into something that it's not.

I could fall in love with him. Go head-over-heels crazy and chase rainbows and happy endings. I could crash and burn, is what. Wreck another friendship by promising more than was ever there.

He doesn't need that. I don't, either. He has a boy who'll smile broad getting to curl up at his feet, and a friend who listens to him and jogs with him and is happy as hell being the sub to his dom, the masochist to his sadist, the bottom to his top. I get a friend who cares for me, turns me on in all the right ways, makes me feel safe and constantly glad to be here.

I'd be crazy to trade that in on love. It's already everything I was hoping it would be.

* * *

Things look different from pet headspace. The world seems bigger, and everything seems more transient -- like Sean could do something, and maybe five seconds later master wouldn't notice if he does it again. Or like he could do something he maybe, possibly, isn't supposed to do, and master wouldn't _really_ mind.

Which is why Sean's quietly putting both his forearms up on the edge of the couch, looking up at Bill to make sure he's not going to get caught right away. Pets aren't allowed on the furniture, Sean knows, but maybe they're allowed _sometimes_, like when they're trying to give master a nice blowjob. Maybe if he just crawls forward onto the cushions a little more and nuzzles in between Bill's legs, he can get away with it...

"Down," Bill says absently, not looking up from his book. He pets Sean's head as he pushes him gently away, and then goes back to reading.

Sean sighs. Master just doesn't know what he's missing out on. He crawls around the couch, and when he comes up to Bill's legs again, he nuzzles at Bill's calf and glances around for another likely spot that looks like it needs a boy on it. Maybe all the way at the end of the couch this time. He comes up again, this time pointedly ignoring Bill, as if the whole purpose of this climb isn't to get somewhere he can get his mouth all over master's cock.

"Sean," Bill says firmly, looking at Sean this time. "Down." He's not sure if Sean's trying to test his limits or just deep enough into petspace, but it doesn't matter; Sean's got to learn the rules.

The look Sean gives Bill this time is one of those terribly offended ones that seem to come so naturally to him in this headspace. He sighs and climbs down off the couch, then curls himself up around Bill's feet and nuzzles at his ankle.

"Good boy," Bill says, leaning down to stroke Sean's face and the back of his neck. "Good pet."

Sean grins broadly and nudges up against the touches. Feels good. Nice. Master has very strong hands. Sean keeps nudging until he's not so much nudging up as coming up again; if master's petting him, he must be happier with Sean, and if he's happy with Sean _now_, he'd be _much_ happier with a blowjob. Sean tries to get his face between Bill's legs again. Masters _always_ want blowjobs. It's one of those facts of life.

The fact is that Bill really wouldn't mind a blow job, but he's not the least bit interested in rewarding Sean for bad behavior. "All right, boy, that's enough." Reaching down, he takes up Sean's leash and leads Sean over to a spot near the foot of the stairs. Once the leash is clipped to a convenient hook, Bill heads off to the basement, returning a few minutes later with a very large dog bed. It's more than big enough for Sean, and Bill tosses it down in front of Sean without saying anything.

Sean boggles at Bill, staring up at him for a few seconds before the look on his face turns to a deliberate pout. He gives a couple of huffy whines, then glances at the dog bed and curls up on it, still pouting.

"Well, if you can't behave, this is what happens," Bill says. He turns his back on Sean and heads back to the couch, turning on the television and hunting around until he finds a baseball game.

Sean snorts loudly and turns so he's lying face-down on the bed. He slides his fingers carefully through his hair, a bit of self-grooming, and clears his throat a few times. Baseball can't possibly be more interesting than a pet who clearly needs attention. Well, not unless it's the playoffs.

Bill glances over at Sean once, gives him a look of utter disinterest and goes back to watching the TV. _Let's see how much he likes being ignored._ It'll be an important thing to know, as punishing a masochist is always tricky.

For a while, at least, Sean's sure Bill's going to look back at him at any minute. When it doesn't happen, he frowns, and sighs loudly, and starts rubbing up against the bed, squirming so his cock presses into fabric. He's a vain enough pet to know he looks good, and he isn't enjoying being ignored at all.

Although Bill's aware that Sean's moving around on the bed, he doesn't actually look directly at Sean, preferring to glance at his boy out of the corner of his eye. He's never told Sean he can't jerk off, but there will be hell to pay if Sean actually comes without permission.

Sean can't even tell Bill's gaze is shooting in his direction from time to time. He groans softly, and for a few minutes he does try to behave. He's quiet and calm and doesn't fuss. But it gets to him after a bit, and he flips over on his back, purring and running a hand down his chest, settling it on the inside of his thigh. Master really ought to know exactly what he's missing.

_Well, that's interesting,_ Bill thinks, with a quick glance over at Sean before he turns his attention back to the game. He'd not expected Sean to be so blatant about wanting attention, and he wonders if Sean even knows how much information -- _and ammunition_ \-- he's giving his Master.

_Probably not,_ Bill thinks. _Boys in pet space think differently._

That one little glance is enough to give Sean a bit of hope, and he whimpers softly and brings his hand back up to his lips, sucking two fingers into his mouth, getting them nice and wet before sliding them between his legs and circling his hole with them.

This time the glance Bill shoots over Sean's way can be excused by the fact that Fidget -- who, unlike Sean, is allowed on the furniture -- has hopped up onto the sofa and is batting at Bill's hand for attention. He gives her more than a fair amount of attention, scritching her ears and fussing over her until she settles in his lap and appears to go to sleep, at which point Bill goes back to watching his game.

Sean frowns deeply. It's not fair having to be jealous of his own cat, damn it. He sighs and stops looking over at Bill. Fine. Master's not watching? It'll be his loss, then, because Sean's still horny and still trying to work his fingers into his ass. And the glide's rough and difficult at first, so he ends up grunting and groaning and rocking his hips up, finally getting his fingers in and moaning softly when he's done.

Sean's side of the living room is beginning to sound like a porno and Bill's half tempted to turn and tell Sean to quiet down. But no, that would be giving Sean too much attention. Instead he turns the game up, not really sure how he's ended up watching a Boston game. "Not even the right fucking league," he mutters, finding himself hoping the Red Sox lose.

Baffled by the way Bill's continuing to focus on the television when he's got a perfectly good pet over here to fuck, Sean just keeps going, finally giving up on the overexaggerated sounds and closing his eyes so he can enjoy what he's doing. It's always awkward, fingerfucking himself, and the angles are never easy, but when he's got the rhythm right -- oh, God, there it is. This time the low growl in his voice isn't meant to seek attention; it's just how he's feeling.

Bill glances over at that; if Sean does end up coming without permission, Bill certainly doesn't want to miss the sight. But no, Sean hasn't been that bad yet. And damn, but he looks good like that; Bill makes a mental note to have Sean do that for him sometime when Sean's not in trouble.

They're at the stretch now and Bill gets up from the couch, making for the kitchen. He's planning on getting a beer and some chips, and he's also wondering what Sean will do when Bill starts walking toward him.

Sean hears Bill moving and immediately stops, turning himself over on knees and forearms and looking up hopefully. Really, he knows he hasn't been a good enough pet to get fucked, but he's still holding out hope for something -- a pat on the head or a tug of his hair would be wonderful right now.

Bill only spares Sean a quick glance as he walks by, enough for him to see how hopeful Sean looks. And then he's rummaging in the kitchen for a beer and the bag of salt and vinegar chips. While he's thinking about it, he fills one of Sean's bowls with water and brings it out, setting it down next to the pet bed. And then it's back to the living room and the ball game, where it looks like Boston might actually be losing.

Sean sighs deeply, takes a few licks from his water bowl, and lies down again. He's still pouting, but it's not quite so bad this time; he's not trying too hard to get Bill's attention now.

The sigh almost makes Bill laugh, which he knows would be a huge mistake. It's just so ... well, _pet-like,_ and he's pleased to see Sean settling into the role. He shouldn't be surprised, really; Sean's tactile and not at all adverse to cuddling, two traits Bill has seen before in boys who make good pets.

It's another few minutes before Sean starts getting antsy again. The bed's actually quite comfortable, and it's nice not having much to do. He's half-listening to the ballgame, though he's sure he isn't as interested in it as Bill is, and for a while this is fairly relaxing.

But then the urge to get his master's attention back comes up again, and Sean rolls over, stretching out on his side. He gives Bill a few soft little whines and a wide-eyed hopeful look.

Although he hasn't told Sean this, Bill is looking for nothing more than a half hour of Sean behaving. Had Sean misbehaved while not in the role of a pet, his punishment would have been more severe, but Bill believes in giving pets a fair amount of latitude. He has every intention of discussing it with Sean, but he's hoping Sean will settle down and get through this before they have that conversation.

Another sigh, and Sean glances up at the television, trying to get an idea of what's happening. So far he still hasn't picked up much when it comes to baseball; he knows the basics from Carrie-Anne and is willing to root for the Mets if that's what master wants from him, but he's at a loss as to why this is so exciting. And he doesn't know why on earth Bill is grumbling about Boston, although he's enjoying having a little time just to watch Bill.

Sean _likes_ Bill. Sean-as-pet likes Bill even more. Bill's good at what he does and there's no pressure to be perfect from him -- just from Sean himself. That's a little too complicated for Sean-as-pet, so he doesn't worry about that at the moment; he just keeps watching Bill. He doesn't really have words for what he's thinking in petspace; he's just enjoying the way different expressions cross his master's face and wondering when he'll be able to get up and nuzzle Bill's ankles again. He _does_ understand that pets aren't allowed up on the furniture, even if master's lap is in desperate need of licking. He'll remember that next time.

Although Sean whimpers a time or two, he doesn't do anything untoward for the next half hour and Bill figures that, in this mode, Sean's behaving quite well. Flipping the television off in the top of the ninth, he walks over to the pet bed and looks down at Sean. "Are you ready to be a good pet?"

Sean nods, coming up on forearms and knees and putting his head down.

"Good boy," Bill says, leaning down to ruffle Sean's hair. "You wanted something pretty badly there earlier, didn't you?"

Sean rubs up against Bill's hand and nods a few more times, turning his head so he can rub his cheek against Bill's palm.

"Can you show me what you needed to be in my lap to do?" Bill asks, settling on the floor, close enough to Sean that Sean can reach him.

Sean gives Bill a hopeful look and moves closer, rubbing his cheeks against Bill's thighs before putting his mouth over Bill's fly and breathing out warm air against his cock. He gives it a few heavy licks before looking back up at Bill with both eyebrows raised, squirming and wriggling and looking very eager.

"I like the feel of my pet's mouth on my jeans," Bill says, feeling himself starting to get hard. "Why don't you convince me to let you get more than that?"

Sean grins broadly, glancing up at Bill, and crawls closer, giving enthusiastic licks to Bill's crotch, outlining his cock with long, fast swipes of his tongue, rubbing his face up against it and making soft, eager noises. This is so much better; he's getting to serve and getting to taste master and he can _almost_ taste Bill underneath denim.

"Goddamn, boy," Bill murmurs as his cock gets hard with almost painful suddenness. He could easily come from this alone, but that wouldn't be fair to Sean. So, after a moment or two, during which the front of Bill's jeans get well and thoroughly wet, he reaches down and pushes Sean gently away. Unzipping his jeans, he gets out of them and then leans back. "Go on then, boy."

Growling, still grinning ear-to-ear, Sean dives between Bill's legs and starts licking, fast and messy, looking overenthusiastic and hungry. It takes him a few seconds to get control of himself enough to slide his lips down over the head of Bill's cock, and he sucks hard as soon as he's there. _Fuck! Tastes good._

Bill's learned to like the way Sean's blowjobs are so different when he's in pet mode. While Sean's always eager, he's much more sloppy as a pet, something Bill has no problem with at all. "Boy's got a good tongue on him," he murmurs, as if talking to himself. "A good mouth."

_So happy, love doing this, God, tastes so good..._ Sean hums, tongue stroking the vibration all the way up Bill's cock, and moves his head down farther, taking in more.

"That's a good pet," Bill moans, leaning back on his hands, letting Sean set this pace. _It's not as if I'm in danger of not coming, and he might as well enjoy this as much as I am._

Oh, God, that's nice, master letting Sean go at it for as long as he wants; it's going to be easy getting lost and just enjoying himself. He slows down a little, easing his mouth back and taking slow, lazy licks up the shaft, finally starting to swallow Bill's cock down again, but easy this time.

Bill can feel himself getting close with each slow lazy movement of Sean's head. "Fuck," he finally groans. "God, boy...." He locks his elbows and grunts a short warning before he comes, his hips thrusting up in spite of himself.

Sean hums happily and licks Bill clean, nuzzling the inside of his thigh when he's done. He's really feeling far too self-satisfied for a pet who _was_ being naughty, but master seemed happy with him and Sean finally got to give him a blowjob. Sean's feeling pretty damned content.

"Go on then," Bill says, when he can speak clearly again. "I want to see what my pet was trying so hard to get me to watch earlier."

Sean perks up and crawls back several steps, kneeling up and spreading his legs wide. He gives Bill a wicked little grin and sucks three fingers into his mouth, getting them nice and slick, while his other hand moves down to his nipple and starts tugging at his ring.

"Good boy," Bill says. "Work it for me, pet."

As soon as his fingers are wet enough, Sean slides them between his legs, slowly working them into his ass. He groans -- maybe a little louder than he needs to -- and gives his nipple ring a rough twist once his fingers are in deep. The twist is hard enough to make him whimper, and he looks up at Bill and catches his eyes just before doing it again, another hard twist that makes him gasp.

"Yeah," Bill says, enjoying the chance to see this without his own need getting in the way. "Hurt yourself for me, boy. Go on."

Sean nods and shoves his fingers in deep, switching to the other nipple so he can give it a twist that makes his eyes snap shut, body curving forward as he cries out. This is so much better than showing off without being asked. Master wants to see it, wants Sean hurting, and everything feels so good Sean thinks he might go out of his mind.

"Christ, you make me wish I was twenty again," Bill says with a groan. "I'd fuck you so goddamn hard." Never mind that at twenty Bill was studying to be a cop by day and on his knees at night learning a very different curriculum.

And when Bill was twenty Sean was eighteen and just learning about pool halls he could get fucked in. Sean grins again and drops his hand to his cock, giving himself a few strokes before reaching up and scratching hard across his chest, leaving four white streaks that lead straight to his nipple, where he catches the ring and twists again.

Bill really can't help it now; he reaches out and drags his own nails hard across Sean's closest thigh, leaving marks exactly like those on Sean's chest. "Keep on going, boy," he says, watching Sean intently.

Sean's panting now, getting closer every time he presses his fingers in deeper, and having Bill reach out to hurt him just makes it that much harder holding back. He whimpers when he twists the first ring again, giving Bill a wide-eyed, pleading look.

"You want to come, boy?" Bill asks, smiling a little. "Is that it?"

Nodding hard, Sean twists one ring, then the other, then angles his fingers in as deep as he can get them. He whimpers again; the thoughts in his head are cascading words like _mastermasterpleasemasterpleasepleaseplease_, nothing more coherent than that.

"Go on, then," Bill says. "Come for Master."

It's that easy, especially in this headspace; Sean groans and feels his cock jerk, ass tightening up around his fingers as he comes in fast pulses that make him gasp out loud. He keeps going until he's making himself whimper, then slides his fingers out and goes back to knees and forearms, crawling close enough to nuzzle Bill's thigh and purr softly.

"Good boy," Bill murmurs, pressing down a little on Sean's shoulders. "Curl up here with me for a while, pet." He continues to stroke and pet Sean, knowing that while they need to talk, it can wait for this.

Sean nods and shifts so he can curl up a little better, wrapping an arm around Bill. This is _so_ good, knowing that he doesn't even have to ask for it; he can snuggle in and feel warm and vulnerable and cared for and safe, all at once. It's getting to a point where that doesn't feel new anymore, but it's still something he doesn't want to take for granted.

Bill gives Sean plenty of time, running his fingers through Sean's hair and playing idly with the collar. The closeness is good, damn good, and he finds himself wondering why he went so long between boys. _Over a year since Chris, and it's like I forgot how good this could be._

Sean grins, flicking his tongue out against Bill's neck. He's not sure if he should speak yet, though he's not quite in petspace anymore. Right now he's just feeling good and warm and comfortable, and not for the first time very grateful his master likes cuddling.

"You ready to come back up?" Bill asks, his tone relaxed. He never wants to pressure Sean out of this space; his boy likes it too much and Bill knows that it's a nice comfortable, secure place for Sean to be. _And I like giving that to him._

Sean nods. "Yes, master," he murmurs.

"I'm glad you tested the limits while you were in pet space," Bill says, still playing with Sean's collar. "Of course now I know how to punish you regardless of what space you're in. Although I don't think you'll require much punishment, will you boy?"

"I like to think not, master," Sean murmurs. The way Bill's playing with his collar makes him grin; it's pleasantly but mildly arousing, the kind of thing that just feels good. "It was different misbehaving in petspace. I knew I wasn't supposed to climb up on the furniture--" _or pounce you_\-- "but it didn't seem to matter the way it would if I weren't being your pet at the time. The idea of getting punished wasn't as worrying as it would be normally."

"Good," Bill says. "I'm not saying that it's good that you disobeyed, but it is good that you didn't think about it as much. I told you I don't expect perfect behavior when you're a pet. I'm glad you listened to me."

"Yes, master," Sean says, nuzzling Bill again. _Christ, I really can't get enough of him, can I?_ "Is there anything else you'd like right now, master?"

"Are you hungry?" Bill asks. "Because I'm starving." He doesn't move though, simply pulls Sean close and kisses him hard.

Between the cuddling and the kissing, all Sean can think is _face it, Bean, you've got it made_. When Bill lets him up for air, Sean grins and nods. "I could stand to eat something besides you," he teases. "If master would let me up, I'd fix something."

"Sounds good," Bill says, reaching for Sean's leash before he stands up. "I should warn you," he adds. "If you misbehave when you're not acting as a pet, you'll be chained up in the play room downstairs for several hours and I won't be paying any attention to you at all."

"I understand, master," Sean says softly, coming up and feeling that same warm tightness in his chest that comes from having Bill's hand on his leash. _And I'm so damned grateful to be here._

"Good boy," Bill says, slapping Sean's ass lightly. "All right, then. Lunch."


End file.
